Just Another Year at Bullworth
by Penned Peafowl
Summary: While troubles with jocks and greasers make ruling the school more difficult than Jimmy anticipated, they're not his only problem. Whispers still circulate from the incident, and his new relationship isn't helping. Meanwhile, there's angry exes and new clique leaders to be dealt with. It seems as though everyone is up to something. Then again, that isn't anything new for Bullworth.
1. Chapter 1

Just Another Year at Bullworth

Chapter One: The First Meeting of the Elite

_Saturday, September 6th_

Before daring to allow the seat of his tailored Aquaberry slacks to touch the possibly molding sofa, Gord retrieved the Egyptian cotton pillowcase he packed in his satchel specifically for this purpose. He smoothed it over the ripped cushion, painfully aware of the disdainful looks he was attracting. With a sigh, he turned around and settled down. The broken sofa received his body without much comfort, tired springs already beginning to dig into his backside. He'd always hated being inside the boys' dormitory. It had been _the_ worst thing about dating Jimmy.

Gord suddenly had to bite back a bitter chuckle. That was a dirty lie. It wasn't even close to the worst part of dating James.

Despite having come in fashionably late, only three of the other attendees were present in the common room. Beatrice sat on the opposite end of the sofa. Her hands were clasped in her lap, one thumb rubbing the top of the other. A blonde thug with poor skin leaned against a shuttered window on the wall across from them. He kept his eyes to the floor, mumbling something to himself. Gord's third peer stared straight at him. Leered really. Damon West leaned forward in one of the folding chairs that had been scrounged up for the meeting. "Hey, that's funny," he said in a stage whisper. "A pillow biter like you carrying that around. Typical." Laughter—a mix of genuine amusement and forced showboating—erupted from the jock.

Gord rolled his eyes in response. It certainly wasn't the most creative jab that had ever been thrown at him. Mother had told him that he'd need to grow a thick skin if he wished to gallant about as a proud gay man, and so that was exactly what he planned to do. And he was no longer interested in using the trendy guise of being bisexual either. Unlike _certain _people, this year he was completely out, and Bullworth would need to learn to deal with it.

While he told himself to stay strong, Damon's unwanted attention continued to pierce him. There was no point in retaliating against that steroidal wall of muscle, at least not alone, so he tried his best to find distraction by focusing on their unsightly environment. The commoner's quarters could send a violent shiver down his spine any day. Dank. Dingy. Dim. And a plethora of other d words could accurately describe the place.

"Detrimental!" the bespectacled girl suddenly squawked. Gord followed her gaze to the wide entrance. Two figures had just rounded the corner. A thickset ginger stormed into the room, while a barely shorter boy scampered behind, face attached to the ground like beaten whippet. Peter only raised his head to take inventory of the attendees once James had led him to the center of the room. They stopped just behind the sofa. Pete clutched a chunk of plastic, one of those gauche clipboards that open to allow the storage of extra pens and paper. He raised it and scribbled something on the piece of computer paper clipped to the front. "Jimmy this place is detrimental to the inclusive environment we are trying to cultivate from this meeting! How can we make Bullworth a welcoming safe haven if one gender isn't even technically allowed in the meeting locale?"

"Haven? Man, I didn't come here for some kumbaya bullshit! I'm only here to make sure you don't screw us over." Damon barked from his seat.

James' beady eyes didn't seem to register the shouting jock or the nagging nerd. The proper king remained as thickheaded as their mascot. Gord stared at him like everyone else in the room and received the same disregard. He had tried to prepare himself for not receiving any special treatment, but still his already shaken mood faltered a bit further.

Gord had worked—actually worked!-all summer to get his spot on that disgusting sofa. He'd convinced his daddy that being the student lead of Harrington House would make having a disappointing fruit for a son less embarrassing. For both him and the Vendrome family name. And then Gord had taken the extra allowance Daddy shelled out and he'd campaigned hard with it. Chad required slandering. Tad needed to be beaten with the shame of not coming from old money. And he didn't even wish to remember the things he had to do in order to win out against Parker.

No, it wouldn't do for him to become so easily discouraged.

While James stayed closer to the female's side of the sofa, he couldn't have been more than three feet away. It was the closest he'd been since the previous school year ended. Since that night on the beach. When Jimmy muttered something to his small friend, he was unable to make out what exactly was said. Gord turned away from the pair. Spurs of annoyance attached themselves to his stomach. It might as well have been summer again with the entirety of several states separating them.

"What are you doing here?" James hissed. Gord caught the movement of a frail white sleeve out of the corner of his vision. Beatrice raised her hand to her blistered mouth in offence. Hopkins tossed, "Not you," at her. Gord felt a dark stare burn the back of his head. A flick of excitement struck through his chest, causing the need for him to frantically calm himself before responding. Trent and Damon watched with narrowed eyes.

"Why my dear James, wasn't it you who invited me? I mean, you did offer a call to the heads of each clique."

An indignant grunt scuffed the king's throat. Even with the gap between them, Gord picked it out with delight. "Don't even tell me—what about Bif?"

"Oh now don't be silly! Taylor will never be anything more than a second-in-command. Took too many blows to the head to lead."

"This cannot be happening," James groaned more to himself than to their audience who decided they couldn't give two cares about what was transpiring. "The other preppies don't even like you."

"I'm sorry James, but it seems as though you will be _stuck_ with me yet again. I have no intention of letting the affluent tier of this school go without fair representation."

"I tried telling you yesterday, Jim." Peter mentioned.

"Whatever." Jimmy stormed around to the other side of the sofa and unceremoniously plopped his husky body onto the middle cushion. If Gord hadn't known that the king barely had two brain cells rattling around his thick head, he would have suspected that James knew the close proximity bothered him more than the distance. Actually, he still suspected this. "Who's missing?"

Before Peter could read from his paper, the front doors swung open. Heavy boots clomped against the cheap floorboards, sounding as if a small pack of tacky horses had entered the building. Gord managed to look over in time to see a lanky figure with a bouncing pony tail escape out the door as the two leaders entered. The burning natural light from outside silhouetted them. Gord bit down on his bottom lip. Once the doors banged shut and locked out the sun again, Gord instantly recognized Johnny and Zoe. She'd traded her orange tartan skirt for the customary dark teal one, but still clung to her outcast ties with an orange scrap of fabric knotted around her wrist.

"Ah jeeze, what is this? The 'I porked Jimmy club or somethin'?" the leader of the greasers asked in his buoyant voice. He slapped his hands together and laughed as five of the seven backs in the room went rigid. "Just joshin' ya buddy boy, don't take it too seriously." Johnny clapped James hard on the shoulder, brushing against Beatrice's back (much to her displeasure), as he made his way to an empty chair by Damon.

Zoe offered a tight smile to the group before joining Trent against the wall. He scooted several inches away from her.

"What is she doing here?" Beatrice asked.

"I could ask the same thing about you," Damon retorted.

"Why? Because I'm a girl?" she immediately snapped back. "I'll have you know that I have ten times the metaphorical backbone than any of the males in my social group."

"He meant 'cause you're a nerd. What's it even matter if you any of you guys are here? Not like you deserve a say in nothing."

"Firstly, we are not nerds. We are the astronomy club. And secondly, how can you even be here? I would have thought you'd surpassed the age limit set upon high school students. What are you, thirty?"

"Ay, I'm twenty! Still got one more year."

Peter, who still lingered behind the sofa, cautioned James that the meeting was quickly being derailed.

"Shut up, all of you!" Jimmy barked and everyone complied.

Zoe propped herself off from the wall and crossed one arm over her stomach. "I actually think she had a good question, Jim. What am I doing here? I'm not even in a clique."

"That's why you're here," Kowalski answered, seeming to forget the shell in which he usually kept himself. "To give a voice for all the non-clique students. I did a poll around campus and it was nearly unanimous: they want you."

Beatrice asked, "Then what are you doing here?"

"He's the head boy," Jimmy answered. "Got power around here. Keep that in mind."

"I guess I just don't really get it. Why me? I only just started back again."

Jimmy stood up, rocking Gord when his weight was lifted off the weakened springs. "Look, can we just get on with this? No more stupid questions. We're all here because we're the best this hellhole's got. That's what's up."

Once Jimmy officially began the first meeting of the Elite, the clique leaders remained quiet for several moments. Jimmy rambled about their responsibility to the school and why there was more important bullshit to tackle than just picking on losers. No one was actually listening though. At least, not fully. They sized one another up, the king's voice simply a buzz in the background. Sure, Gord had wanted to be in charge as a way to get close to James once again, but that did not mean he lacked concern for his chaps either. He planned to fight for them just as vehemently Damon did for his braindead jocks.

James attempted to get everyone to agree to put bullying away completely. Well, that simply wouldn't do. Arguments would come up no matter what. Fights would break out. It was an enclosed area full of hormonal teenagers after all. And sometimes nothing beat taking out your frustrations on someone weaker than you.

Gord remembered the first time Jimmy approached him with his idea of a completely relaxed Bullworth. It'd been late, and Gord was trying his best to stick around a little longer in hopes of getting asked to stay the night. He'd been pressing a bag of melting ice wrapped in a rag against puffed skin around Hopkins' eye. He'd thought the talk about a school free from fighting was just the blows to his head speaking. Or perhaps his bruised ego from getting the shit kicked out of him. Now that he was officially bringing it up to his chosen counsel, well, Gord still disagreed with it, but he had a certain unspoken respect for James' obstinacy.

The same couldn't be said for the others. Trent seemed the most upset by the idea. "What the hell Jimmy? What are we supposed to do for fun?" Zoe rolled her eyes at this. Northwick had appeared as if he wanted to say more, but shut his mouth.

Damon picked up where he left though. "You can't take away our rights like that. I never voted for you, so what's to stop us from kicking every weakling ass we see?"

"Your quarterback didn't have a problem with me. Ted helped put me in charge of this place. "

"Yeah? I'm not Ted. He's gone, and now you got to deal with me. So why should I listen to you?"

When Jimmy appeared at a loss for words, Beatrice spoke on his behalf. "We need a figurehead that holds no loyalty to any of the cliques in order to form a new cohesion. Last semester was by far and large the most academically productive period of time I've ever witnessed at Bullworth. Jimmy did a great job, and I think even you know that."

Zoe scoffed. Her eyes widened when everyone's attention whipped to her. Arms crossed in front of her body, she muttered an apology and added, "Even with all the shit that went down, I do think he did a good job. Things have changed a lot for the better, and we owe that to Jimmy."

Gord chose not to speak up for the boy who held his obsession the previous year. If anything, his words would have been damaging coming after hers.

There was a lot a shrugging and grumbling, followed by more back and forth, contributed mostly by the cold sore queen and the poster boy of steroid abuse. Peter scribbled the whole while, as Jimmy remained silent. A glaze came over his cold expression. While his body was tense, Johnny was the complete opposite as he slouched in his chair. A childish smile plastered on his face, he continuously flicked a cheap gas station lighter over and over again as his peers argued.

Rocking everyone on the sofa, James abruptly jumped up onto the center cushion. With the added height of the couch, he was better able to look down on everyone. "Alright, enough of this! I don't care what you guys do to each other. All I'm trying to say is that if any of you cliques gang up on somebody who doesn't deserve it, I'm gonna kick your ass. If somebody is asking for it, then go crazy. I don't give a shit. But if they're not bothering anyone, then just leave them alone."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Trent asked and cracked his knuckles. "That's something I might be able to get behind. Lot of people here deserve what's coming to 'em."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound so bad. I thought you were on about some complete nonviolent yogi crap."

Jimmy sneered and returned to his seat, completely missing the chance to bump against Gord. "I just think people deserve the chance not to get wrapped up in all this mess." His mouth twitched. Gord knew that he was just covering his ass, bending his ideas to compromise with the common filth surrounding him.

"Yeah, aight, I get that. But if any losers skulk around _my _field, then it's on."

Beatrice's hand shot straight into the air, though she didn't wait to be called on before interjecting. "The astronomy club reserves the rights to the library." She closed her mouth for just a moment. "Although, I suppose if others need it for studying purposes, we can make exceptions. As long as the interlopers are polite. I would never want to stand in the way of one's education."

"We want that bus out by the garages. Ethan heard that old hobo croaked over the summer," Trent threw out.

"That's a little too close our shop there, buddy boy. Why don't you white shirts stick to the dorm yard with your little hopscotch courts and whatnot."

"Greasebags don't get to tell us what to do."

"Who you calling a greasebag, Zits?"

Trent pushed off the wall at the rather low blow. As he took his first stomps towards the greaser, Johnny bolted off his chair with so much force that it clattered to the floor. Gord couldn't stop from flinching as the two alpha males went at each other. The much larger Johnny shoved Trent by the shoulders. He only managed to make him take a single step back and then Trent was back in his face, beating a fist against his own chest and shouting incomprehensible threats. Zoe grabbed one of the bully's shoulders while Jimmy shot up and took his other arm. As they pulled him back, Damon, with a look of detest, held Johnny in place by his leather jacket.

"Knock it off!" Jimmy roared.

Zoe tried to soothe Trent with, "C'mon, let it go."

Gord had expected as much macho showmanship. He smoothed the corner of his pillowcase that had wrinkled when James stood. Behind him, Peter still held his clipboard up. Mechanical pencil pressed down against the paper, but his hand shook too much to make any notes. It'd been a mistake to put such a weakling into a position of authority. How could he possibly control the massive prefects if he couldn't even keep composure in the midst of a scuff? Gord sighed and waited for the testosterone to die down.

Johnny never fully settled back into the meeting. "This is all so… so stupid!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up dramatically. He started back towards his chair, but spun on his heel to face the Jimmy. He let out a cackle as he walked up to the real king of the school and put a finger right in his face. "Just cause you've messed around with half the people here, don't mean I gotta be up your ass like the rest of 'em. I'm threw with kissin' your bootstraps, Jimbo! My boys ain't gotta listen to you no more. It's time we took back the school. Show you all what happens when you mess with one of us!"

"Oh please, your group never owned the school. You're too concerned with your hair and yo-your loose women!" Her body trembled enough to bounce her glasses down her beak, and she refused to look up at the thunderous greaser she'd just insulted, but Beatrice didn't take back her words. Damon smirked. Perhaps they had underestimated the homely girl.

Johnny left Jimmy and approached the nerds' new leader in eerily slow steps. He placed his rough thumb under her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "Your boys may have sent a dame to fight their battles, but that don't mean I won't pound your face. You watch your words, cupcake." With that, Johnny left the building, doors slamming themselves shut behind him.

"This isn't good," Peter commented, returning to his task of jotting notes. "You're going to have to bring the greasers back on board, Jim. And as soon as possible."

"That goes for my boys too. You gotta earn my respect," Damon said before also leaving.

Jimmy breathed out a snort that could very well have come from an irked bull. He sat down heavily in the chair that Damon had occupied. "Great. How could this have gone any better?"

"The astronomy club pledges allegiance to you, Jimmy."

"As well as Harrington House," Gord offered with confidence.

"As long as I get to help you beat that prick into submission, then we'll back you too." The muscles in Trent's arms were still twitching. He paced in a circular pattern, chest puffed as far as it would go. He had a lot to prove stepping in for Russell, who had been the one to form their relatively new clique. Unlike the gigantic ape who led before him, Trent would have problems intimidating the other cliques. Gord thought that he might be able to use this to his advantage in some way. They were of kindred spirit in a way. He was the first person elected to lead his chaps who was not of Harrington blood. He'd have to keep an eye on Northwick.

Jimmy looked to Zoe, as did the remaining elite. She rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not speaking for anyone but me, but you know I support you. I always will."

A simultaneous smile and frown came to Jimmy and Trent respectively. His allegiance hadn't evoked anything out of Hopkins, yet Zoe says one thing and he perks up like a dog. Why did he even bother?

Trent pushed past everyone and headed towards the door. "Don't make me regret this," he shot at Jimmy.

"As much as I'd love to discuss politics and tactics, I would much rather get out of this place." Beatrice scurried to the door after the leader of the bullies. "Trent I've thought of a few propositions that could benefit us both greatly. If you wouldn't mind just hearing them out," she called after him. He brushed her off as he went out the door, but as far as Gord could tell, she kept to his heels. Damn commoner. He thought about approaching Northwick now as well, but knew he had other responsibilities. There was somebody else that he had business with.

"Guess I'll get going too. It was good seeing you again." On her way out, Zoe gave Peter a small wave, carefully keeping her gaze away from Gord. "I'll see ya later, Pete."

"Sure thing, Zoe!"

He waited until the tomboy had left before getting up himself. Peter wandered off without a word as Gord delicately folded his pillowcase. The head boy had been careful not to leave himself alone in a room with the two of them last year. Apparently he was still trained. Good.

James forced out a sigh. "Whaddya want, Gord?"

Hearing his name spoken in that familiar forceful voice flooded his head with memories of the past year. All the times Hopkins had whined his name in his ear, close enough for chapped lips to graze him. Breath tunneling down his ear and sending delightful shivers all down his body. And when he'd whisper it in the darkened movie theater to get his attention. Usually it was to distract Gord from the distasteful gory scenes he loathed. What last came to Gord's recognition was what always stuck to his head when he thought of James. The way he'd barked at him the last time they'd spoken in person. _"I mean it, Gord. I'm not doing this anymore. Not worth it."_

His satchel hanging as a dead weight off one shoulder, Gord turned to face Jimmy. He could still see it in his face. In the way that Jimmy had to scrunch his mouth in order to suppress the corers of it from peaking. That only made it worse. He knew that James was hoping for him to try something. Sure, he'd mostly likely brush off any kind of pass, but that didn't stop the king from wanting the prep to try. Gord wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not until he paid. "I don't want anything from you. The meeting is over, so I am leaving just like everyone else."

He raised one of his barely visible eyebrows in return. Other than that he showed no reaction. So they would both play.

* * *

He was able to catch Zoe before she made it inside the girl's dorm with some light jogging. That and he resorted to shouting out her name and drawing the unwanted attention of every girl in sight. Later he was sure he'd hear about being caught chasing after some poor townie, but he had a job to do.

The carrot haired girl turned around just before she reached the front steps. There were a few unknowns hanging about, gossiping or whatever it was that women did. A few had looked as if they were going to approach Zoe themselves, though they scurried away as Gord walked up. Some even retreated inside the building. "What's up?" she asked in a way she tried to pull off as casual. Her tightening facial features betrayed this.

"I need to speak with you," he responded when he was right in front of her. He said as little as possible, wanting to keep his mouth closed to hide the fact that he was out of breath from the short burst of physical activity. A summer without being in the ring at all had been most unkind to him.

"Well I don't need to speak with you." Zoe went to go for the door again, but paused. She turned back to him and exhaled heavily. "Okay, that was childish of me. I don't want to play like that. How about I forgive you and we can just start all over?"

A heated wave rolled over Gord from his face on down. "Forgive me? _You're_ forgiving _me_?"

"Yeah. Why not?" Her malice-free smile suggested that she hadn't understood the attitude he'd put forth with his questions.

"Oh no honey, you're in no position to forgive me. Not over what happened. James was with me long before he even met you."

Hatred definitely seared beneath her stony expression. Gord studied her arms and found them to be more like a lumberjack's than he expected. He expected her to take a swing at him, and then he'd have to think up an excuse as to why he'd been bested by a girl. Perhaps he'd need to pull a card from Derby and have Bif totter him everywhere after all.

Zoe didn't hit him though. Instead she played with the orange scrap on her wrist for several silent moments before speaking again. She kept a steady voice as she said, "Look, it was tough for both of us. I can see that now. And maybe I should apologize for how I reacted to everything, but I was really hurt. I was betrayed."

"As was I."

"Can we just move forward? I really want a nice easy senior year."

Gord paused, not wanting to give up his passive disliking of her. Thinking up insults about her split ends and tiny breasts had been one of his favorite activities over the past three months. He'd mentally tear her apart whenever he had a free moment from campaigning. "Fine."

"So what did you want?"

"I was sent to give you an official invitation to the next meeting of our little club." The clasp of his bag clicked as he opened it up, quickly retrieving a small business card from within. He handed it to her, taking pride in the elegant embossed text on the shiny paper. He'd personally designed the thing, taking the horrid logo by Lola and Pinky and morphing it into pure beauty.

Zoe stared at what she was handed. She failed to comment on the how nice the broken heart constricted by a too tight crown looked. "Cohort of Angry Exes? What is this?"

"Why it is a fine social community in need of your membership. We are people who were used and tossed aside by James. Just like you."

At that, she tried handing the card back, but he wouldn't take it. She ended up tucking it under the cloth around her wrist. "Sorry, but I really don't have any interest in getting revenge or whatever."

"Oh we're not about revenge," he lied easily. "We want to warn potential victims about the school's worst serial cheater. Plenty of young girls started this year, and we want to make sure that there are people that will look out for them if James should wish to put his moves in their direction."

Her lifted brow gave him the notion that she wasn't convinced.

"Alright, alright, when we gather, we may have the occasional bitch fest, but no harm comes from that. It's therapeutic really. Having a safe place for venting."

"I'm sorry Gord, but I really don't think this is the type of thing I want to get involved with. I've moved on. You all should too."

He needed her. Nothing would work if he didn't bring Zoe into the fold. His membership was completely provisional on his getting the townie to join. And he needed those bitter girls. They'd be his army. No, there was no way they'd let him continue if he didn't live up to his word. After all, Gord was the person most of them had been left for.

"Please Zoe," he began to beg. There was no room for shame or humility. Not in this war. Not at Bullworth. "I really think this could be a chance for us to move forward. Perhaps we could even become friends one day."

One of her oversized boots toed the cement.

"Together, we could continue to improve this school. Public relations between my group and yours and whatnot."

She rolled her eyes and looked up at the clear bright sky. "This is ridiculous." Zoe looked back to him again. "But I could use all the friends I can get. I'll go to _one _of these things. When is it?"

* * *

Gord whistled a happy tune as his Italian leather shoes snapped against the ground on his way back to Harrington House. Everything was falling into place for the prep. All that was left to do for the day was to unwind in his large suite. Soon. Soon, things would be back in place.

* * *

**Notes: **Hello! I'm really excited to be writing a longer bully fic again! With the rumors that there might be a sequel in the works, I started replaying the game (yet again) and it really made me want to get a move on with writing this.

So I know that this chapter is pretty dry, mostly exposition. And the characters might be a little OOC. Things will hopefully get smoother though! I've got a lot of pairings and schemes I want to fit into this thing. :)

I might make a few mistakes with some factual stuff from the universe. It's so detailed that I forget a thing or two! And I've definitely fit some headcanon in here, especially with everyone's ages/grades. A quick break down of some of these would be that Jimmy is a going on sixteen year old sophomore, as is Petey. Oh and Christy too. Gord, Beatrice, Damon, Mandy, and Bif are all seventeen year old seniors. Zoe and Lola are eighteen year old seniors (with Zoe having a summer birthday and Lola being held back a year). Trent, Kirby, Angie, and Pinky are juniors. And the people who graduated the year before are Derby, Russell (was able to get his diploma because of some freaky unexpected math skills), Earnest, and Ted.

Sorry for the long note section! Gah, one of my pet peeves! Any feedback is much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Once a Townie

_Wednesday, September 3rd_

Trent couldn't ride like they could. He didn't appreciate the burst of exhilaration that resonates in your stomach once your tire connects after landing a jump. The way gravel splashes up, plinking off your spokes. The release of anxiety when you discover you're not gonna end up scraping along the ground. That guy would never feel these things. Trent could barely handle riding off a curb, to be honest. Always talking about how he can't risk his face, as if he actually believed he was destined for stardom.

So when Trent started sniffing around her trailer park, Zoe dismissed the possibility that he could hang with her boys. And yet, it was already the last evening of summer vacation and he was still tagging along. Somehow.

It was a unanimous decision to do whatever Edgar wanted for the day. Nobody had even thought about it being any other way. She'd been a bit nervous that he'd want to do something real crazy—like back when they used to pull jobs. Something that would get them in deep trouble, something that would get the rest of them expelled before they could even start the new year. Edgar hadn't done that though. He led them around the industrial park and up the trails that ran alongside the tracks. They rode, did some jumps, but mostly just goofed around. The worst Edgar did was lift a couple dozen opened beers off the sea of bums on the streets. Even Trent was able to keep up with them for the day.

When the sky started shooting off all its amazing colors, the hot oranges and piercing reds, the once townies settled down in the train yard. They clumped together around a trashcan with a fire burning inside. Most sat on the ground or on some discarded object strong enough to hold 'em. Clint stayed on the seat of his bike. Edgar pulled Zoe off to the side, far enough away to where she couldn't hear the flames pop.

"So this is it?" he remarked pulling his shirt closed over his wife beater.

"Nah, it's not over or anything. We'll still come around and see ya all the time."

He shot her shanks with his eyes but smirked in a friendly enough way. "Don't lie to me, Lil' sister. We both know you all aren't gonna have enough time to come all the way out here. Not as much as I want."

"You know, you could have come with us. Free admission, just like Crabble-bitch promised."

"Girl, you know I'm too old for high school." He chuckled. Even in the dying light she could appreciate how white his smile was, despite his love of smoking. "Serves me right, hanging around a bunch of kids all these years."

Zoe offered him a punch in the arm. He grabbed her wrist as she pulled back. Heat of his moist palm seared right through her fishnet arm warmers.

"I'm gonna miss you lookin' like this. That school's gonna change you back again, isn't it?"

She tried to get her arm back before responding, but only managed to make him hold tighter. His strong grip squeezed a little too hard. "What're you talking about? The clothes? Yeah, I'll have to wear the uniform there, but that ain't a big deal."

"It's not just that." Edgar released her wrist, which she pulled back much too quickly. He turned and walked a couple of paces away, even further from the guys. With each step the heel of his boot grazed the ground pulling up the dusty gravel.

She gave her lower lip one bite and looked back at her friends around the fire. Only Trent had been watching the two of them. She connected eyes with him and nodded, though she didn't know why. "I'm going to be the same as ever," she promised as she caught up to her leader.

"No. You're not. That's okay, I guess. People change." He shrugged and continued walking. Zoe followed silently behind. His feet finally stopped moving once he reached some tracks that belonged to an abandoned line. He kicked his work boot gently at a rotting tie, removing small chunks of wood with each tap. "You're not the same as you were when I first found you. Sulking around the yard of that old shitty house your mom bought. Remember that?" he asked as if she could really forget the brief period of time of her mom actually owned something instead of mooching off some guy. It hadn't lasted long. She moved them into Rod's trailer before finals were even over. "You were angry. Angry and dumb. You've still got that flare about you, but you're not so dumb anymore."

"Gee thanks," she laughed a bit uncomfortably. Just what was he trying to get at?

"We shouldn't talk about this no more. You're all leaving and I'll be stuck here. It's depressing as fuck, and I just wanted one more good time with all of you. Have a few beers, retell a few of our old glories."

"Well they've got all the beer back at the fire." Zoe pointed over her shoulder towards the group. "If you wanted to get hammered so bad, why'd you pull me out here?"

"I dunno." He crossed his arms behind his head and stretched his torso out. Edgar's button up shirt had flapped open again and his undershirt pulled up enough for Zoe to glance an inch or two of his hard stomach. When she first got kicked out of Bullworth, she'd have killed to see that sight. She'd thrown herself mercilessly at him and got nothing but rejection.

He used to say she was lucky he had restraint. Knowing him better made her agree with this sentiment.

"Remember when you used to have a big ol' crush on me?" he asked as though he could read her mind.

She forced a wide open smile, attempting to hide her increasing discomfort.

"All you could talk about was how much better I was than your old dumb football boyfriend. How I was so mature and poetic."

"Guess I was pretty dumb, huh?"

This made him laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Said you wanted a guy like me. An older guy drugged out of his mind half the time. And then next thing I know you're bringing that dumbass Jimmy around."

Hearing his name made her breath stick in her throat for a second. It still hurt thinking about what the lying piece of scum did. She didn't need Edgar to give her another lecture about it, rubbing the wounds through the dirt.

"Still think you should've let us put him in the hospital." Edgar suddenly stomped down on the soft wood he'd been kicking. Scraps of it flew, while the rest crumbled and molded to the sole of his boot. "Now that Trent guy, huh?"

"It's not like that."

The look he gave cut through her bullshit.

"Well, I mean, it's not serious or anything."

"Good. He's an alright guy and all, but not for you."

They were at a loss for words for a few beats. They were losing light by the second and Zoe really wanted to be back at the burning trashcan. Things felt…weird. And she didn't like it. "Well, if you're done critiquing my love life now, I'm starting to get cold."

"It's barely September."

She could only come up with a shrug.

"Here, before you go," Edgar said before grabbing one sleeve of his shirt. He began pulling. Soon enough Zoe heard the popping of stitches breaking apart. When he was done, his sleeve lay limp in his hand and his flaming skull tattoo was exposed. She'd always liked it. Edgar tore the fabric further, ripping off the cuff. With one more tear it was a long ragged scrap. He held out his hand to her. "Give me your wrist."

She could still feel his strong grip stinging her skin, but she handed over the same wrist again without hesitation. His thick fingers nimbly tied the scrap of orange fabric around her wrist. Hard to imagine the fingers that could do such delicate work used to help him light up all sorts of shit.

With an orange bow acting as a new bracelet, Zoe took back her hand and admired the work. "There, now you can always be one of us."

"It's great," she said. "But did ya really need the whole sleeve."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Figured the boys would get jealous if they didn't get a piece too." He casually draped one of his strong arms over her shoulder and began to walk her back to the group. "C'mon lil' sister, let's get you warmed up."

* * *

They spent the rest of the night bullshitting and drinking the hobo backwash they'd lifted. It was comfortable, nice. Zoe knew she was going to miss nights out under the free sky once she was back in the dorms. It was long past midnight when they began to grumble about needing to get back. She'd been sharing a plastic cat litter container with Trent. Had to be pressed right up against him in order for both of them to fit. He kept one of his arms in her lap, absentmindedly feeling the side of her denim flame skirt with his stubby fingers.

Wanting to stretch out their last night together, everybody walked their bikes along the mostly quiet streets. One by one they split up, Edgar being the first to wander off, even though they all knew he had nowhere in particular to go. Zoe lived in the same sad trailer park as Leon and Duncan, so there were still four teenagers left when they came up to the beaten entrance gate. "See ya bright and early, sunshine," Duncan mumbled with a quick wave. He kept his eyes to the ground as he stumbled off with Leon.

"It's late," Trent said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

She scoffed in order to suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah, come on. I'd like a boost anyways."

They laid their bikes in the little patch of dying grass her mother called the front yard, then walked around to the back side of the trailer. The window to her room was cheap, probably made of Plexiglas or something. There wasn't a lock to it. She pushed it open to the side, and then promptly felt Trent's hand on her ass. He gave a quick squeeze which she returned with a kick. "You said you wanted a boost."

When they'd both slipped inside, they danced the sloppy routine they'd practiced all summer. It started with him sloppily pulling her against his body and her pushing back off a few times. Like a parent trying to get a hug from their preteen. It got a lot less innocent once she finally gave in, though she really never planned on refuting him in the first place. He'd kiss her neck. The alcohol on their breath intermingled sourly. When she'd turn to face him, that's when he'd begin pulling at her top. It was always awkward when he first got it off. A lot like when she used to date Jimmy. The two didn't seem to know what to do with a pair of tits. She used to get self-conscious and think that hers were small or ugly or something—she knew better now.

By the time they made it to her cheap twin mattress sitting on a box spring on the floor, they were almost always too beat to do much. That night was no exception. She hadn't had enough to drink to make her feel fuzzy. That blurred feeling, like nothing could actually hurt her—as if it were all just a TV show she was watching or something—is what normally got her ready to go all the way with Trent. If she were honest with herself, it was never all that great. A few minutes of him breathing heavy while they desperately tried to avoid looking at each other's faces. Being held afterwards was alright though.

All Trent managed to do that night was to dry hump her leg long enough to make a mess of his briefs and then pretty much collapse on top of her. He was snoring pretty quick, his face nestled in her neck, making it difficult for her to work apart the clips of her bra. She wriggled around until it was off and on the floor with the rest of her dirty laundry. Didn't know if it was true or not, but she'd heard that sleeping with a bra on was bad for your health. The caution stuck with her.

Zoe draped her slightly tanned arm over Trent's pale back. His breath rolled out against her neck with falling of his body. She watched the orange fabric on her arm rise and fall until she too was asleep.

* * *

She snapped up early the next afternoon to the sound of her bedroom door being slammed shut. Confusion set in on her as she propped herself up onto an elbow. She could hear her stepdad thundering down the hall shouting at her mom. "Barb, your slut of a daughter snuck yet another boy into my house last night! And she didn't come in until two in the morning! What are you going to do about her?"

The familiar weight of Trent next to her was missing. Instead, he was halfway through the window, one leg in her room as he straddled the sill. Two stuffed laundry bags hung off his shoulder outside the trailer. He offered her a small shrug and half a smile. Seeing as he spent the entire summer with her, he'd already grown tired of apologizing for lowering her stepdad's already shallow opinion of her.

"Whatcha got there?" she asked as she got to her feet, somewhat noticing that the floor felt a lot harder than usual. She was still in her skirt from last night, which she slipped off without much thought.

Trent finished entering her bedroom, pulling the bags in after him. Before answering, he fished around in one and pulled out her pink bra with enough underwire and padding to make her boobs nearly reach her chin. Not really, but the thing could really make her average sized chest pop. She'd been sporting it when she first met Jimmy. "Did you and me a favor."

Zoe took her bra without a word. As she hooked it in the front, she admired her bare floor. He must have woken up hours before and done their laundry at the mat down the road. What a guy. After twisting the bra the right way around and fitting her boys in the cups, she held out her hand again. Trent supplied her with a Bullworth approved white shirt.

It wasn't until she was fully dressed and cleaned up that it first hit her. She, Zoe the badass townie, was actually going to graduate. And none of that GED b.s. either. A real diploma from Bullworth Academy. For the past year, she hadn't dared to even dream this, and yet, it was happening. No longer would she aimlessly wander the streets with a penchant for taking out all of life's unfairness on random students. Once again, she'd _be_ a random student.

As they waited at the front gate for Duncan and Leon, Zoe stared at Trent. Like her, he was straddling his bike. Unlike her, he had out a cellphone, fully immersed in it. His thumb flew while he focused on the probably cracked screen. Even with the bright noon sun hitting down on them, she could see a faint artificial glow on his face. Zoe didn't even have a phone. Didn't see what the big deal was about them. Then again, she never really had a chance to afford one, even a cheap flipping one like his. Zoe studied him as he got swallowed up by his damn phone. Did he even have a clue as to how lucky he should feel? Sure, Bullworth was a damn hell to be in, but it was still a privilege or whatever. She wondered if hanging out with her crew, seeing what happened to those that slipped through cracks right into the trash heap, had any impact on him whatsoever. Would he be able to smell apathy and abandonment on his clothes, no matter how good of a job he did at washing 'em? Would he ever hear chattering kids surround him and feel the biting cold of a street at three in the morning? Would he ever know a need greater than a desperate high?

Trent looked up from his screen finally, beaming like a nursing home geezer seeing his bratty grandkid for the first time in months. No. He'd never get it. But maybe that was alright.

"What got into you?" she asked.

"It's me," he answered in a near whisper. His arms shook until he finally gave into the urge to throw them up for himself in a loud cheer. His hooting rose above the usual soundtrack of petty arguments and sputtering engines that played on loop in the trailer park. "They picked me! The guys all want me to represent them!"

At first her mind went to her boys, the ones who'd had her back since she'd been pushed down. But then Trent's very different reality sunk into her and she realized he was talking about his friends from school. The bullies as they called themselves. "What do ya mean represent them?"

"I'm taking Russell's place. I'm the new leader!"

The cliques. The idea of them had fascinated her when she'd been in eighth grade entering Bullworth for the first time. They meant that you could belong somewhere. People would have your back. Your very own team to root for. And clique leaders had been an even greater fascination of hers. Everyone held them in high esteem, like a celebrity or local news anchor. They got to do things other kids couldn't. They had power. They stood on pedestals in the sky, yet were close enough to touch. Now, as someone who'd officially been an adult for about three weeks, Zoe thought the whole idea was ridiculous. It was like make-believe. Like having a mortgage on a house and then using it to play with dolls. Just didn't make sense. She was too old for it. Apparently Trent wasn't.

* * *

Classes didn't start until next week, but, as a group and with Edgar's permission, they'd decided to get settled into campus life a few days early. The guys would need to readjust, and she wanted to help get them back into student life. Trent and five of her boys rode ahead of her. They went slow, only peddling when necessary, across the sidewalk, earning plenty of glares from pedestrians. Zoe walked her bike, stuffed laundry bag balanced across the handlebars and heavy school bag weighing on her back. Duncan traveled on one side of her, while Jerry was on the other. They didn't talk much, unlike the boys ahead of them who were loud enough to disturb everyone within a two block radius.

Zoe knew that all of the guys were nervous to be returning to the place that threw them to the dogs. Nervous just like any other kid starting school for the year. The two beside her were the ones who were actually afraid though. And she was sort of afraid for them. She glanced to her left and took in Jerry. His uniform appeared to be newly purchased, the collar of his white shirt stiff enough to cut. His tan slacks had a crease down each leg and his sweater vest wrinkle free. The only thing off about his uniform was that his tie wasn't tucked in, but that was so that the small scrap of orange shirt he'd safety pinned to it could be seen. Zoe suspected he must have finally gone to see his mother, probably full of lies of not having had dropped out two years ago after a breakdown.

While Jerry had earbuds in and looked to have abandoned New Coventry in favor of the world in his head, Duncan often checked over on her. Zoe caught his stare one of the times. The guy was trembling enough to wiggle his front wheel back and forth. He was the only one not in uniform. Showing off his grenade tattoo, he still wore his wife beater. Maybe it was to be a warning to any potential bullies, the black ink stretched tight over his built bicep. Duncan was no longer the scrawny kid who ran from Bullworth his freshman year. As long as she'd known him, he talked a big game about wanting to get back into school to show them what was what. From what she could tell, it must've been a front.

"You ready?" she asked looking at the small backpack he carried on one shoulder. It wasn't even full.

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's a lot different now, you'll see."

"Because of Jimmy?" As soon as the question left his lips, he swallowed hard. There wasn't any malice in it, just an honest to god question. She knew he was curious about Jimmy. When they'd been dating, he hovered about Hopkins quite a bit and even spent some one on one time with him. Zoe hadn't seen him even get friendly with Trent.

"Yep."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I just forget what he did to you. Never thought he'd pull something like that." Duncan had been the only one of the guys not to show up when she called for arms last spring. Edgar gave him a hard time about it. Zoe noticed that his eyes were as bloodshot now as they were whenever he was on the outs with Edgar. Or anybody else really. She hoped he didn't get himself kicked out of school for possession. Needed a better way to deal.

She shrugged. "It's okay."

"Who do you hang with at school now?"

His words ran together in his blurted out question to the point where she had to ask him what he said. After clarifying, she didn't have a response right away. "Uh, whoever really I guess. I don't run with a clique or anything."

"Are we a clique?"

The townies. The outcasts, the dropouts, the druggies, the bad influences. "Nah, I think we're gonna have to assimilate. You don't need a clique though. It's better that way actually."

"I, uh, I might actually try talking to the nerds here and there or whatever." Duncan looked past her to Jerry. She could hear trickles of a beat from his headphones and knew there was no way he'd heard what the other boy said. The shorter townie breathed out in relief. "I mean, they're starting me back as a freshman, but I wanna see if maybe I could skip a grade or something. Otherwise I won't graduate until I'm twenty-two and I don't even think that's legal."

"I think exceptions can be made." While Duncan had been gaining body mass, he'd let his brain atrophy. She didn't want him to get discourage when he had to start hitting books instead of pipes and needles and gyms. "But if you wanted their help, I bet they'll listen. They'd probably love someone like you around."

Duncan nodded, but looked largely unconvinced.

* * *

The boys wanted to stop at Burgers in Old Vale, which meant going way out of the way. Zoe wanted to shake off her heavy backpack as soon as possible, so she politely declined and opted for a more direct route instead. Trent accompanied her while the rest went their separate way. "Yo, we're gonna come find you though when we get there!" Clint called back to her. "One of us!" The rest began to chant the phrase. As they disappeared, their shouts slowly died with them.

"It's gonna be fun with them around," Trent said once their silent ride got to be a little too awkward. "Maybe I can recruit them."

Zoe thought of Davis. "Probably not all of them," she muttered.

"Maybe I can recruit you." He flashed her a suggestive smile, making her crack up some. He looked sorta offended at her laughter.

Hugging her clean laundry bag precariously with one arm, Zoe dared to pedal faster. She pulled ahead of the bully for half a block before he caught up again.

"C'mon, you'd do great running with us. We've been looking for a girl. Not that that's the only reason I'd want you around."

For the remainder of their ride to school, Trent pestered her about joining his clique. She ignored him until he got more vocal and then eventually declined. Bullworth was in sight when he brought it up again. His tires squealed as he peeled out in front of her, nearly falling and skidding his face across the asphalt. A grimace came to her as she stuck her heels to the ground to stop in time so she didn't hit the idiot. "I could use your input and stuff ya know. We make a good pair. Beauty and brains. 'Cept we both, like, have both those things."

"I'm over that sort of thing. I don't want to get involved with any of it."

"It's Bullworth."

Without any precaution to hide her so-called modesty, Zoe swung one leg around to get off her bike. If they were going to make her wear a skirt that came above her knee, well then everyone would just have to get used a panty flash every now and then. She didn't give a crap. Although, she could have swung at Trent's face for the way he stared. As she walked her bike around him, her cheeks felt sort of hot.

Trent followed her pattern and walked his as well. "I just think it's gonna be a lot harder to date if we're not in the same clique. It's why none of my guys can never get any girls. Well, that and they always scare 'em off by pushing 'em and stuff."

She stayed a few paces ahead of Trent so that he couldn't see her face. The gates got closer and she could see a small figure waiting outside of them. Part of her had been afraid of this since the first time she drunkenly smashed her lips onto his. "Date? What're ya talking about?"

She could imagine his already pronounced brow furrowing. "What am I talking about? I'm talking about us, duh. You can't tell me you spent all summer getting this and now you don't wanna own it." A forced chuckle followed his words, but she could hear a growl behind it.

"I didn't think were being serious or anything." She kept her head straight, staring at the student at the front gate. As they neared, she made out that it was Petey. Relief poured over her. Just had to make it there. Trent wouldn't want to show any weakness in front of him. "You know, I just thought we were distractions for each other. From Jimmy and Kirby."

"Don't!" Trent shouted loud enough to make her wince and to draw the head boy's attention. Quieter, he said, "Don't bring that punk up."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not in a good place for another relationship or anything."

They were in hearing distance of Kowalski now. He waved to them, or probably just her.

"I hope this doesn't—" She'd been going to say hurt their friendship, but Trent cut her off before she could finish this sentiment.

"Forget it," he snarled.

Zoe had figured that Trent would keep walking when she stopped in front of her short friend to say hi. He stopped as well though. And then Pete specially greeted him. "Hey Trent, you're coming to the meeting, right?"

"Yeah," he muttered curtly. Thankfully he didn't look that upset. His eyes weren't red or anything at least.

"Did you already tell Zoe about it?"

Trent looked to her, face blank. "No, she's too mature or whatever to play make-believe with us kids, you know?"

Pete's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"You can forget telling her—she's just gonna say no." With that, the blonde bully entered the school campus. Before even making it to the turn for the dorms, he'd already pointed at some unlucky kid and shouted doofus at their face.

Kowalski looked up at her. "That was weird," he mentioned. "So… you two?"

She shook her head. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay." A small grin flashed on his face. "Um, anyways, Trent was supposed to tell you about the meeting on Saturday. It's at the boy's dorm around one."

"Meeting about what?"

"Jimmy's calling it the Elite." Pete answered with so much wonder in his eyes that he missed the way she grimaced at the mere mention of Jimmy's name. "You're supposed to come too, unless you're actually going to join up with the bullies." Nervousness intermixed with his chuckle. "That's, uh, that's what Trent said you were going to do."

"I'm not joining up with any of these stupid cliques."

"Good! That's the whole point of having you there. So you'll come, right?"

Zoe looked up at the school, at the way it seemed to loom over everyone on campus. For the next nine or so months she'd spend a lot of time in that brick building. Going to class, sticking her head in textbooks, probably chucking a dodgeball or two. That would only take up so many hours though. What would she do with her free time every day? Her weekends? While she didn't have any enemies, it's not like she had much for friends. The guys would need her at first, but she had no doubts that they'd find their own places around school and settle down. Then what would she do?

"So what's this Elite?" she asked with a sigh.

"It's all the clique leaders, and then Jimmy, me, and you. We're going to cut down on fighting and make this place actually habitable."

That's what she thought, more of this pretend kingdom bullshit. Most of her groaned at the thought of it. But somewhere deep inside her lurked her middle school self. The girl that hadn't been screwed and then kicked out of bed by life. She was eighteen now. When would she ever get the chance to play make-believe again?

Zoe shrugged. "Maybe." She had a few days to think it over. Although, she probably wouldn't go. Probably. She'd just have to ignore the pestering of the fourteen year old in her brain.

Pete lifted up a plastic clipboard he'd been holding. A thick stack of papers were on the front of it, which he began to flip through. "You probably want to put your stuff down or something. I can tell you which dorm is yours."

* * *

From outside the cheap door of her dorm room, Zoe could hear an all too familiar sucking sound accompanied by the sighing of bedsprings. Keeping her head down, she pushed into the room and made her way to a bed that didn't have two pairs of tangled legs squirming on top of it. The figures scrambled to unhook themselves as she dropped her bags onto the mattress. "Zoe!" a girl's voice called out. "I didn't think you'd be here so soon!"

She didn't have to see her face to recognize the head cheerleader. Zoe kept her back to her once friend's face as she began to put her wrinkled clothes away in the wardrobe. Irritation replaced what at one time would have been exhilaration.

"Sorry," a meeker voice apologized from across the room. As much as she wanted to hate Mandy, she felt a sliver of satisfaction to discover that the two were still going strong. Or as strong as a closeted cheerleader and a lesser popular schoolgirl can go.

"Babe, close the door!" Mandy suddenly yelped.

"Right," Angie replied. The too bright fluorescents that had been filtering into the dim room, catching a blizzard of dust in its beam, was immediately snuffed out.

Zoe continued on with her task as she heard Angie step back to Mandy. The bed didn't groan again, so she assumed the gangly girl remained standing. "It's good to see you, Zoe," Mandy offered. When she made no reply, the cheerleader went on with, "You know, I picked out this room assignment. That head boy, Patrick or whatever, helped me. "It's just you, me, and Ange."

"Great." Zoe rolled her eyes and reminded herself to have a talk with Pete later. The dark of the room already bothered her, and she assumed she'd just have to get used to it. There's no way Mandy would risk anything by having the blinds pulled up every now and then. She'd be stuck with poor lighting and awful soundtracks to fall asleep to each night. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

"I want to be friends again, Zoe. I feel horrible over what happened."

"Yeah, I bet you do. That's why you helped spread those rumors about me."

"I thought they were true! I couldn't go around having a skank as a best friend!"

Zoe didn't know what made her want to puke more: the idea that her once friend actually thought she fucked that disgusting pig or the hypocrisy of it all.

Tired of hanging her shirts, she chucked the whole bag into the bottom of the wardrobe. She could feel both the girls watching her, and it made her itchy. Finally, she turned to glower at them, only feeling slightly bad for including the mostly innocent Angie in her aim.

"You're gonna need all the friends you can get," Mandy said. She held Zoe's glare coolly. "Especially now that you're not riding on Hopkins' coattails anymore."

"Yeah? Well I don't need you." Zoe stomped towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. She opened it once more to shout, "And don't screw on my bed," into the room. Once it was closed again, she leaned her back against it and slid to the floor, legs straight out in front of her. Her heart kicked in her chest while venom coursed her veins. It hadn't taken much, but she was that recently expelled girl again thrashing already dented garbage cans on the street, hounding anyone who dared to look.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down. All she wanted was a fresh start at getting the normal senior experience. Prom, final exams, and a bunch of people she called friends that she wouldn't talk to in five years. Maybe she could have all of that if she could just make her past selves shut the hell up.

* * *

**Note: **So, the first few times I played Bully, I really didn't like the townies. Because of that, I never really paid them much attention. I don't currently have a save that's far enough in the game to play with them (no longer have a ps2 and I'm only on chapter three for my wii version), so I'm kind of taking a guess with the orange shirt boys. Hopefully, I'm not too far off with them (though I don't think many of them had a lot of personality in the actual game).

Also, I believe we'll find out in June if there's going to be a sequel to this game. *fingers crossed* Yay!

Any feedback is welcomed, though I won't hold a chapter hostage for reviews or anything haha. That just seems silly to me. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Classes Begin

_Monday, September 8th_

As much as he wanted to, Kirby just couldn't concentrate on how well Ms. Peters' peep toe flats complimented her knit dress. The first class of the year hadn't even officially started yet and he already knew he was gonna have some problems. World of Music was designed for the kids that couldn't pick a tune to save their damn lives but still needed a fine arts credit to graduate. Kirby signed up for it because he thought it'd be less fruity than art class, and Peters had a better voice than Danvers. Unfortunately, it turned out that reading music history was gonna be just as fruity as swabbing around paint. Across the mostly empty classroom, Gord Vendrome sat with crossed ankles.

Kirby didn't like Gord. Didn't feel comfortable around him. It was one thing to stare at guys. Or to even touch them a little. Not that that meant he did these things himself! But, even if he did, he wouldn't let anyone find out about it. That sort of stuff was still wrong and everything, but it could be kept discreet. The Bullworth way. Gord took things too far. He had to go and try to _date _a guy. Tried to have all the handholding and emotional stability that comes with girls. It wasn't right!

And now, now it was even worse. The guy was going around and telling people he was gay! Not gay like the same rerun of Impotent Rage playing twice in one week gay. Gay like wanting to be with another dude gay.

He was getting away with all this too! With still fifteen minutes before the bell rang, there weren't many kids in the room yet. Just him in a back corner seat, a couple of non-cliques, two freshmen nerds up front, and then Gord and his bodyguard seated in the other back corner. Bif had the desk right in front of the fruit. His large body looked ridiculous crammed into it. As long as the preppies let Gord be their leader, then he'd have that monster watching his back. From the look of his perfectly ironed Aquaberry polo tucked into his non-dirtied slacks, it was working. Kirby forced himself to stop staring at the pair. "Just isn't right," he muttered to himself before lowering his head onto his desk.

As the classroom filled, Kirby came to the realization that he was severely outnumbered. A small pocket of nerds and greasers dotted the rows mostly filled with non-cliques. As the final bell rang, a girl with a rattily cut bob tromped through the door. Two guys followed her. There were four empty spots left, none of them together. Surprisingly, Zoe chose the one next to Gord. She even touched his shoulder while she got herself seated. _"Why the hell would she wanna talk to him after all the shit he caused?" _Kirby thought to himself. He openly gawked in their direction while the guys that followed her in asked the person in front and beside her to move. And by ask, he meant they stared them down until they scurried out of their seats.

"Welcome everyone to World of Music," Ms. Peters greeted with a genuine smile honeying her voice. Kirby crossed his arms and tried to get lost in her first lecture. When he was in sixth grade, he'd accidentally called her mom. God, he hoped nobody remembered that. He threw a glare out towards the rest of the room, but nobody was even looking his way. Good. Idiots knew better than to mess with him.

Ms. Peters handed out a worksheet with thirty numbered sentence fragments on it. Each one was a quick description, like 'never had spaghetti' and 'has been to Italy.' He tugged at his t-shirt when he noticed the empty lines next to each one. The varsity logo ironed on the front his shirt suddenly felt irritating against his chest. Kirby knew exactly what this was. One of those dumb orientation get-to-know-every-fruit-in-the-class worksheets. Peters confirmed this when she explained that they needed to get up and find someone to sign each space.

Kirby couldn't do the activity. He was the lone jock in the class, not even Mandy there to back him. Damon had talked to all of them about getting back on top. The things he threatened to do if he caught any of them fraternizing with the enemies kept him up at night. Boss wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Before Jimmy. They had to go back to asserting their authority, pushing around any of the lesser dweebs. Kirby didn't realize he was sighing until he was out of breath. He'd never dream of telling Damon this, but he actually preferred the way things were last year. He still got to play football and make his mom proud, but he could just relax at school. Didn't have to worry about always getting in someone's face.

While the rest of the class shuffled around in the too tight rows between the desks, Kirby pretended to be more interested in his phone. He pulled up Life Invader and found that he couldn't concentrate on the shallow statuses of his fellow teammates. He peeked over the screen at his unmarked paper. _"Who owns more than four scarves?" _he wondered. Sure, some of the questions may have made him curious. It wasn't worth it to piss of Damon though. The dude was really looking to prove something.

Ms. Peters never called him out personally. Just stared at him from behind her desk, face full of disappointment. That alone almost made him bolt out of his seat and start hounding people for autographs. He managed to resist. When his phone couldn't distract him from the teacher, he returned to silently judging the stupid prep king. Or should he say queen? Kirby chuckled to himself. Gord wasn't really doing the activity either. He and Bif just sat at their seats while kids lined up to exchange papers with them.

Kirby was so distracted by sizing up his rivals that he didn't hear anyone approach him on what was now the far emptier side of the room. He only discovered that Zoe had been standing there signing his paper when she slammed down a pen (one which happened to be his that she must've swiped) against the wood. Kirby flinched at the sudden noise. "There, now do mine," she said while holding out her own paper. He stared at her. She didn't go away.

"I'm not doing this. It's stupid."

"I don't care how stupid it is; I want the points. Now can you sign one or not?"

Zoe placed her paper on top of his own. It was already mostly filled out with only four spaces remaining. Can recite every state and its capitol. Is fluent in two or more languages. Plays three or more sports. And is an only child. Gee, he wondered which one she could possibly want him to sign. The chick remained persistent, so Kirby eventually gave in and scribbled his first name by the plays three or more sports option.

She looked down at his work and smiled. "Hey guys!" she shouted over the murmurs of the class. "Over here, got one!" She waved her hand in the air until the two guys she'd come in with started over towards them.

Kirby groaned and slid down in his chair. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair when the two guys were in front of him and demanding he sign their papers too. They were both dressed in crisp and stainless school uniforms which did a poor job of concealing their considerable muscle mass. One was taller and had dark skin, while the other's pale arms were blotched with uneven tanning and scabbing sores. They must've been some of those thugs that Hopkins got back into school.

Kirby didn't want to start anything with the hoods, so he wrote his name again without much delay. Besides, it wasn't like they were part of a rival clique or anything, so Damon couldn't get too upset. Hopefully.

"Now sign his," Zoe instructed. She eyed the nerds in a front corner of the room. "Hurry up. I've got an idea of where we can find the languages and states."

The taller dropout slopped his name on one of the lines. He'd written it too big, so it took up the space of the one below and the one above. Not that it mattered. The dude hurried to Zoe's side when she started to the nerds.

The other townie lingered behind, looking over Kirby's mostly empty sheet. He thought about telling him to scram. It might be good to know something 'bout him though. Intel or whatever. The guy seemed to sense Kirby's irritation and mumbled something that sounded like sorry followed by half a laugh. "A lot of these just don't apply to me."

Using Kirby's pen, he trailed an inkless line above the column of descriptors. Kirby watched his lips move as he read and reread all of them. For a junkie, the dude didn't look that bad. He didn't look like how they looked in the movies, all sunken cheeks and patchy stubble. _"He's not great or anything, but he's not bad," _Kirby caught himself thinking before he could stop. He'd meant it from a purely objective standpoint! It's perfectly natural to notice that someone's eyes were a little too small and close together. Or that there nose was way too big, even if it kinda fit their face that way.

Kirby flicked a glance to the other wall again. His blood flowed faster when he caught Gord watching him. "You can just pick any of them. I don't think it really matters."

"Oh yeah, I guess." Zoe's friend continued to study the paper despite this. Finally, with a hint of a smile, he began to scrawl his name down. "There!" Even after Kirby got his paper back, he kept his spot standing there.

Kirby just wanted to go back to being alone. "You done?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the other townie trash. "I should get back." He finally started to walk away, but turned around briefly after only a few steps. Without looking up at him, the guy quickly mumbled, "I'm, uh, Duncan by the way."

Kirby shot him a look that he hoped communicated that he didn't care. Not that it mattered. Duncan had his back to him as soon his name left his mouth. Doofus.

Zoe and her boys started a trend of people approaching his desk, though most were easily discouraged when he ignored their existence. When everyone went back to leaving him alone, Kirby picked up his paper and read over what the idiots claimed about themselves. Zoe was a natural red head (gross) and the one apparently named Leon lived in the state his entire life (no surprise there). Duncan's neat and tiny name was next to something he hadn't expected. Kirby dared to glance up and found him still talking to the nerds. So that was what a scarf hoarder looked like, huh? _"Wonder if there's a story behind that."_

* * *

Being on the varsity team afforded Kirby the luxury of only having to have two morning classes a day for the fall semester. Ten minutes after the dumbass music class let out, he had biology. That wasn't so bad. Dan was in his class, and Dr. Slawter wasn't one to waste time with stupid orientation activities. The two jocks took one of the two lab spaces in the back and mutilated a fetus pig together. The sour smell kind of got to his stomach, and he really thought he was going to lose his breakfast when Dan stabbed its peaceful face while joking that it was a nerd. He managed to stay strong though. Somehow.

Since most people had the common sense not to skip class on the first day, the hallways became a turbulent sea of kids crammed shoulder to shoulder. Keeping his thumbs through his front belt loops and trying to rub against as few people as possible, Kirby followed Dan through the noisy halls once class let out. His teammate took complete advantage of the chaos. He shoved anybody in his path, delighted by the fact that the crowd made it nearly impossible for any nearby prefects to do anything. Only one person objected to Dan's abuse. Some greasebag. As soon as he struggled to come back, Dan shouted, "Whatcha gonna do about it, prick?" and then socked the guy hard in the clavicle.

They ended up outside one of the bathrooms on the lower level. "Hold up, I gotta take a leak," Dan explained. Kirby waited outside with his back to the door. He rocked from foot to foot as Dan took his sweet time. "What the hell is he doing in there?" he muttered to himself. A dull computerized chime rang out, barely audible above all the students. It singled the first warning that the next set of classes were about to begin. Predictably, the halls got a whole lot quieter.

Dan came out rubbing what Kirby hoped was water on the front of his jeans. "Let's get something to eat."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the shorter jock agreed, though he wasn't particularly hungry. Hopefully there wouldn't be any pork in whatever slop Edna cooked up.

A few students remained in the hall, mostly upperclassmen who didn't need to scramble for credits. When the pair turned a corner, they both immediately recognized one that was rummaging around in a locker. It wasn't hard to pinpoint the leader of the nerds with her plaid jumper sticking out. Dan grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "Man, this is perfect. We gotta do something!"

"Like what?"

"I dunno, send her a message? Jeeze ya prick, think for a minute will ya?"

Kirby rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but what are we gonna do?"

Beatrice stepped back out and began to straighten. Without warning, Dan bolted towards her. He pushed her open locker door back, loudly clanging it against something. "Grab her bag!" he shouted back at Kirby who seemed to have forgotten how to move for a second. "Come on!"

Beatrice shrieked and went to dive for her locker. Dan pushed her back hard enough that she tripped over own her Mary Jane's and landed on her ass. That snapped him back and he began to pound his feet against the linoleum. Kirby was so focused on getting to her backpack that he didn't notice someone stepping out from behind her locker door. Someone tall. Someone pissed.

The shortest jock reached the locker and ripped the bag out, slinging it over one shoulder. When he went to make his escape is when he noticed the pale fingers clutching down on Dan's shoulder. From his widened eyes, he could tell that somehow Dan had failed to recognize that he'd slammed the door against a fucking person! Idiot!

Dan tugged at the strong fingers but couldn't get the hand off. Kirby watched ragged nails bite down into jersey material. He knew those fingers. Knew them too well. He took a few steps back as Trent easily shoved Dan into the open locker. The bully pointed right at Kirby, pure hate in his Neanderthal face. "I'm gonna kill you!" he growled.

Normally Kirby had a fight reaction to that sort of thing. When he was outnumbered, he occasionally used flight. Right in that moment, he had neither at his disposal. His legs became cement. Kirby barely registered Beatrice on the ground yelling for help or Trent slamming the door shut on his teammate. All he could do was stare as the bully stomped towards him.

Luckily a prefect skidded around the corner before Trent reached him. The massive senior came from the bully's side, quickly reaching the blonde and grabbing the scruff of his collared shirt. Kirby recognized the teen with the blue blazer and power immediately. "You should not be pushing the girls around,' Yuri said as he surveyed the scene.

Kirby was smart enough to know that when someone was ballsy enough to leave the team to become a prefect, they wouldn't be above a disregard for favoritism. He quickly fled while Trent struggled to get free. Screw Dan. He could handle himself.

* * *

Being used to running for passes on the field, Kirby managed to escape out the front doors of the school and get to the gym with no problems. He was breathing a little heavy, but he suspected that was more because of the run-in than anything else. _"Fucking asshole, always getting in the way!" _

A class was just getting started with warmup exercises inside. Damon was sitting in the bleachers jeering the fat and nerdy kids who already looked miserable. Kirby made his way to his leader, who barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hey," Kirby greeted. He sat down one bleacher lower than the quarterback.

Damon nodded, still focused on the class.

"See anything good?"

"Not yet, dawg. I'm scoping though. We still gotta replace all those fucking rats."

He nodded and slipped the bag off his back, setting it next to Damon's large feet. Where did he even find Converse that big? Better yet, Converse with the school crest painted on them. Those were actually pretty cool…

"What's that?" Damon asked with biting laughter. "You a fucking girl, man?"

It took a few seconds for Kirby to regain his head and stop thinking about his leader's shoes. The bag! While it was originally just tan, tassels had been tied to all the zipper pulls and a couple of flower pins adorned it. Somebody had started to draw the periodic table with a black sharpie. "No, this ain't mine!" Damon looked intrigued. Kirby wondered if Dan had been busted or if he was escaping the locker and heading their way. He shrugged and decided to take the chance. "I thought you'd like it though. It belongs to that nerd, Beatrice."

"For real?" Damon asked with a hoot. He clapped Kirby's shoulder hard and beamed. "Man, you did alright for yourself. Taking initiative, I like it." He stood and picked up the bag with one of his enormous hands. "Keep it up and you just might make team captain next year."

Kirby smiled and didn't care how much of a dork he looked like. As Damon took off towards the more secluded locker room with the stolen bag, all Kirby could see was his mom's face when he called her and told her he was captain. That'd be worth whatever it took to get him there! Maybe she'd even stop calling him a Nancy!

* * *

Even though tryouts hadn't been called yet, the veterans were still expected to show up for practice in the afternoons. Coach Mendez put however much energy Burton spent spying on girls into riding them to hell and back, but, man, did it feel great. He threw them into monkey rolls and burpees for what felt like hours, followed by twenty-five sprints to the forty yard line and back. Three guys puked. It was awesome.

Mendez huddled the sweating stained boys together before letting them hit the showers. "Slackers!" the potbellied balding man yelled at them. "Yall've been slackers for too goddamn long! Not anymore boys. From here on out, you're gonna start gittin' yourselves some goddamn trophies!" Several looks flashed between them, all in disbelief over that accent coming out of that man. A few of the dumber guys that had been calling him the old Mexican dude looked particularly confused. Mendez hadn't sounded like that the first time Kirby heard him.

Unexpected accent aside, the practice ended on a high note. Hard breaths pushed through their lips as everyone beamed, happy to have survived the intense training in the stuffy late afternoon heat. Fists bumped all around. When the team departed, Kirby walked off his exhilaration by pacing in a circular pattern a few times. He exhaled loudly, clapping his hands together in front of him. He happened to cast a look up towards the bleachers before deciding he was ready to face the showers. A boy he didn't recognize from that far away came out from underneath them and walked up the path away from the field. Kirby laughed to himself and waited for a second figure to scurry out as well. "Walk of shame!" he joked out loud. Nobody ever appeared though, and he eventually had to shrug and head off.

Nothing could ruin his endorphin induced high. Not his crappy morning, not nothing. He wouldn't even let dinner with the rest of the jocks get to him. Didn't matter how pissed Dan was at him. Maybe he'd even be able to find something useful out of Damon's ranting about staying at the top of the food chain.

* * *

**Note: **This one's a bit shorter, but I was originally intending all the chapters to be around this length. And yay, Kirby! This was my first time writing him, I believe.

Many thanks to Lopozz! :D


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Head Boy

_Saturday, September 13th_

Christy perched on the step above Jimmy, her long legs draped down across his lap and her arms around his neck. She'd missed the first two buttons of her shirt and forgotten her tie that morning, leaving her with an abundance of cleavage to stick right next to the king's face. Pete had to admit that she knew how to play the game well. Surprisingly well.

"I've always wanted to be a princess," she cooed and leaned further forward, pressing more of her soft body against Jimmy. Pete felt like a pervert sitting next to the two of them. She was worse than Gord. "And now I'm like the princess of the whole school!"

A dorky grinned was plastered on Jim's face. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly.

"Aren't you more like a queen though?"

Christy narrowed her mascara lidded eyes, making Pete gulp. "What?"

"Well uh," he rubbed the back of his head and stared down at the clipboard in his lap. Attached to it was a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to hold their plans for getting the cliques back in line. "Everybody calls him a king, so that would make you more like a queen figure than anything else." He managed to stay smart enough to close his mouth before he went on to explain that nobody saw her as anything more than the person that was currently getting bedded by the king.

Jimmy, still in a boob induced daze, told his pouting girlfriend that queens were more powerful.

"You should just start calling yourself a prince."

The two boys laughed at this and received a glare in response. "Yeah, uh, maybe babe."

While Jimmy and Christy got handsy with each other on the front steps of Bullworth, Pete tried to concentrate on the problems they were supposed to be solving. Cliques were proving to be a bigger difficulty than either of them had expected, and they hadn't made any progress on bringing them back together. They'd actually lost ground. Jimmy lost ground.

Beatrice came to Jimmy Monday afternoon, going as far as to interrupt their chemistry class. Pete had never known her to disrupt anything education related. He braved leaving the classroom without permission, alongside Jimmy. Once they were all out in the hall, she collapsed against a locker. She shook violently enough to make the metal door rattle, and the rims of her eyes radiated an awful red color, even behind her smudged lenses. "Now what?" Jimmy asked, either not noticing or not caring that she'd been crying.

"It's those—those pigheaded jocks! They've stolen my book bag! Snatched it right out of my locker and pushed me to the ground."

Pete reached a hand out to comfort her, but withdrew it before contact with her arm had been made. She hadn't been paying attention to him anyway. Her eyes never strayed from Jimmy.

He raised a brow at her, before tossing out, "That's it?"

"Hey, she's really upset," Peter said meekly. He was largely ignored.

"It was an act of aggression against my people! You're the one in charge; you need to help me get it back."

"What am I supposed to do about it? Ask them nicely?"

"Jim," he tried to get his friend to listen, but couldn't. Pete could sense where this was going, could almost hear gears ticking in the nerd queen's head.

"They've probably already trashed the thing. Nothing you can do about it now, 'cept go and get a new one. Maybe keep a better hold on it this time."

"I had very important documents in there! If they find them…"

"Look, you're the one who had to go all girl power or whatever and become a clique leader. They deal with bullshit like this all the time. You can't just come running to me every time someone's a little mean to you."

"So, you're denying me aid?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I'll keep my eye out for your bag." He started back towards the classroom door, but stopped before opening it. "If someone really messes with you or something, then I'll beat their faces in. You gotta handle some of this tame shit on your own though."

Pete tried to apologize once it was just the two of them, but she stared at him with a confused disgust. Like when you see a bum on the street that kind of looks like someone you used to know, and you're trying to figure out if it's really them. Beatrice turned her nose up and fumed away.

The jocks started their organized reign of terror upon the nerds the next day. Beatrice had had schedules in her backpacks. Organized lists of all of her friends and exactly where they'd be at any time of any day. Supposedly she'd made them so that she'd be able to get to 'her people' if they ever needed help. Pete didn't doubt this, but they were dangerous in the hands of Damon. He posted jocks, heavily armed with eggs and itching powder, in vantage points outside almost all of the astronomy club's classes. It was a bloodbath. Though, thankfully one without much blood.

* * *

With a shake of his head, Pete found himself back in the present stuffy afternoon. His knuckles were ivory from clutching his clipboard tight enough for the bumpy plastic to leave rivets in his skin. Jimmy and Christy were now full on making out, lapping at each other's faces like a pair of dogs who'd gotten into the peanut butter. "God," he muttered to him and pressed a hand down on top of his head. A spongy resistance came from the pressure. His mom was supposed to have given him a haircut before school started, but she'd forgotten. He'd need to take care of it soon, lest he have a white boy 'fro.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna get going," he announced after he got to his feet. He tucked his clipboard under one arm and used his freehand to brush dust off the seat of his uniform pants.

"Hold up," Jimmy said and peeled his face off from Christy's. "Did you come up with anything?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know when you do."

"Sure thing, Jim."

As he shuffled towards the school building, Christy called out, "Bye Patrick!"

* * *

Saturdays didn't automatically make for an empty school building. Plenty of clubs rented classrooms for weekend meetings, and several classes were actually held on Saturday mornings as well. Although, most of these were designed for upperclassmen who were in danger of not having enough credits to graduate. Every year it seemed like they offered another weekend class.

While he was far from alone, the school's head boy only saw a few other people in the hallway. Most didn't even look his way. He climbed the stairs, trying to keep from making as much noise as possible in the barely humming entrance. It somehow felt solemn. Bullworth without chaotic crowds of students had always felt off to him.

Upstairs, Pete turned into the waiting room Miss Danvers called her office. Neither she nor the principal were in, being it was the weekend. That didn't mean that there was no work for the head boy to do though. He crossed behind the mammoth L-shaped oak desk and sat in a cheap desk chair with wheels. He parked himself at the side that ran against the wall, his own little area. A red zippered bag stamped with the word 'mail' had been carelessly plopped on top of his neat stacks of paper. With an audible sigh, he placed the bag on the ground. He'd get to it later. Certainly didn't need any distractions at the moment.

Pete had no idea what being the head boy meant when he accepted the position, aside from the fact that he'd get to wear the same spiffy uniform that the prefects did. After he'd been fitted (and received plenty of snide comments from Danvers about ordering in the smallest one they'd ever needed), he learned that there was a lot more to the gig than walking around in a nicely tailored blazer. He received and sorted all mail, both student and faculty. He also had to deliver it, which was particularly unsavory when Dr. Slawtor received his new specimen on Wednesdays. In addition to the mail, Pete was also in charge of the prefects. Really, all this meant was that he wrote their patrol schedules. And helped them fill out their reports whenever they busted a student. And hired them. And stitched up their uniforms whenever they caught a snag. Yeah, he supposed he had some real power around campus. Pete couldn't force down a small smile that curled his lips. Sure, people still didn't know who the hell he was, but he had the authority to pull some serious strings.

Unofficially, Pete also did some of Danvers' work so that she could better serve Dr. Crabblesnitch. While neither adult called him by name or even thanked him really, they did mention several times that he was a lot more efficient than other head boys. Pete flipped through some reports that the secretary had printed off for him the other day. The tasks of hers he did were mostly simple ones. Greet new students and show them the campus, designate living arrangements, and search through the school's database to spot kids that were in need of remainders to not fail their classes. He currently worked on the last one, surprised by how many F's he was seeing from just the first week of school. Most were greasers. Pete sighed again, pursing his lips together. Danvers would have just sent the kids nasty notes about needing to step up their game or adjust their attitudes. Pete liked to refer them to another student that they could receiver tutoring from.

Kowalski was just about done jotting down the names and classes of at risk students when he became distracted by boots squealing down the freshly waxed floor. He looked up in time to see Zoe crossing in front of the entrance to the office. "Hey!" he called out and stood so that she could see him over the desk.

Down by her sides, she'd been clutching her hands into tight fists. When she turned towards him, a scowl stained her face. Zoe quickly turned that into a more neutral expression, but an annoyance remained in her eyes. "What're you doing here?" she asked.

"Just working on some stuff. Head boy duties, you know?" He didn't realize it, but he wasn't standing in his normal slouch. Shoulders back and chest puffed just a bit, he'd be mortified if he could see himself. Zoe didn't seem to mind though. She came up to him and leaned on the desk. He fought his urge to remind her that students weren't allowed in there without Miss. Danvers' being present. Himself being the only exclusion to this rule.

"So what kind of bullshit do they make you do, anyways?"

"Oh, not that much." He quickly turned over the paper he'd been working on when he caught her focus trailing toward it.

"Wow, they let you see everyone's grades? Can you change them and stuff too?" Her amber eyes sparkled. While he tried to decide whether or not to fib in order to impress her, she said, "Just kidding!"

He laughed. It came out brittle. "What are you," he had to stop to clear his throat. When had the air become so dry? He was almost choking. "What are you up to?"

"Ugh." Zoe ran both hands through her hair, allowing the coppery color to be caught better by the light. She went to say something, but stopped herself. Finally, after more hesitation, she gave a reserved answer of, "Just some typical Bullworth crap."

"I hear ya on that one." Pete smiled. He liked the Bullworth crap though. It gave him stuff to think about, a position to play. His parents had never allowed him to sign up for sports on account of his small stature, so it felt good to finally be part of a team.

Zoe picked up one of Danvers' heavy calligraphy pens and twisted it in her fingers. "So, you guys have a plan with what's been going down with the nerds? It's getting pretty sick to watch."

"I think Jimmy was going to ask the other cliques to keep an eye on them. Maybe escort them to classes or something."

She scrunched her nose. "He hasn't even done that yet? What's gotten into him?"

Pete almost answered Christy, but managed to stop himself in time. "He's, uh, got a lot on his plate this year."

"I dunno. It kind of seems like he doesn't give a damn anymore."

Pete wanted to argue on his friend's behalf. He knew that Jimmy still cared, knew that he was upset about how nothing was working out. He was a teenager though. A shallow dumb teenager who wanted to repair the reputation he perceived as being broken.

"Hey, maybe you could get Mandy to talk the jocks into laying off."

Zoe snapped, "I don't got anything to do with her."

"Oh." Pete felt deflated. He'd been doing somewhat appropriately in this social exchange and then he had to go and ruin it. He sat back down in his chair before mumbling, "I thought you two were friends again."

"I will never have that backstabber as a friend. I don't care how much she gets on my case about it."

He went back to staring down at his papers, allowing for an awkward silence to fill the air between them. This caused their little chat to come to an end.

After saying goodbye, but before taking off, Zoe surprised him by saying, "You know, we should hang out some time. Just you and me."

He instantly perked enough to forget his flub. "Really?"

"Yeah, I don't want things to be weird between us just 'cause Jimmy and I broke up. I had fun hanging with you last year."

"For sure! Let's do that!" He wanted an exact time and date and activity planned, but she'd already gone.

When she first transferred to Bullworth, Zoe instantly became one of the hottest attractions at the school. Everyone wanted a piece of her. To most, it was all about her looks. Zoe had a body too amazing for an underage girl. Boys used to make rhymes about her chest and, uh, a certain other lady part. Like everyone else, Pete had noticed how nice the curves of her body made her look. But that wasn't the only thing he liked about her. He remembered that she used to wear her hair long and straight. And sometimes she'd put cute hairclips on one side. She always smiled wide, not afraid to share all of her teeth, even if they weren't the whitest.

When she started, he'd already been in the school for a year. He started at the youngest grade Bullworth offered, fourth. That made him just an unknown dorky fifth grader, while she was the amazing teenaged girl that could have come straight out of a movie. He used to openly gawk at her, knowing nobody cared enough to tease him. Now he was making plans to do something with her sometime. Pete chuckled to himself and got back to his work. How things change.

* * *

Peter remained in good spirits while he finished up the rest of his tasks. He even managed to feel less consumed with impending doom than usual when he picked up the mailbag. The clunky zipper stuck several times on its way around. When it was finally open, he was hit with the strong scent of plastic. He quickly removed all the envelopes and tossed the smelly bag back to the ground.

He was about halfway through sorting when his fingers found a familiar letter. Beige envelope, smaller than a postcard, and somehow a bit sticky. His stomach curled in on itself when he read his named penned sharply on the front. He felt like he was going to be sick. And even with the feel of a potential vomiting burning his throat, he was still somehow stung with an electrifying exhilaration. He took the letter and quickly shut it inside the storage area of his clipboard.

When the stampede of the dinner rush hoofed into the building, Pete had just finished the mail. Having delivered all the teachers' letters to their respective mailboxes in the faculty lounge, he had three stacks remaining. One for the boys' dorm that he would personally deliver, one for Harrington House that he'd leave with Gord, and one for the girls. The very recent Mrs. Galloway usually took care of those for him. Hopefully she'd be monitoring the cafeteria so he wouldn't have to worry about them.

* * *

It was after ten that night when Pete finally had the chance to retire to his room. He'd spent a good chunk of time trying to hand the student mail off to the right people, and then he had quite the mess to deal with when an over-the-top fight broke out in front of the library. The putrid stench of stink bombs still clung to his jacket. He shivered and shook it off, folding it before placing it into his dirty clothes hamper.

The fight had been started by the jocks of course. Prefects caught everyone on the varsity team aside from Damon in the area. They must have thought they'd have a quick enough time: run into the library with air horns blaring, lure the nerds out, and then pelt them with rotten vegetables and clumps of dirt before running. It failed to go down this way. The astronomy club had been packing extra ammo. Stink bombs, marbles, fire crackers. It was a disaster. And the bullies had been on the scene too. From what he heard of the crowd's murmurs, most chalked the white shirts presence up to their love of fighting. Something didn't sit right with him though.

He had to oversee dozens of write-ups. He collapse backwards onto his stiff mattress and let out a long moan. If he had to see one more of those half sheets of paper, then he might no longer be in need of a haircut. He'll have pulled it all out and made himself bald.

His hidden letter slipped into his mind right as he was beginning to lose consciousness. Temptation to leave it for the next day played with him. He just couldn't though. Once he remembered it, it stuck to the backs of his eyes. He justified retrieving his handy clipboard by noting that he still needed to change for bed anyway.

While he knew he was alone in the room, he still cast a fugitive glance over at Jimmy's side of the room before daring to unclasp the plastic. As expected, there were dirtied clothes all over and a half eaten sandwich, but no roommate. Jim usually spent the weekends in town, where more trouble was easily at hand.

Inside, the smudged envelop sat on top of various lists printed on computer paper. He set the board aside and turned the letter over in his hands. He pushed a corner into the soft pad of his finger and spun it a few times. Something was missing. He glanced back at his treasure trove. Pete huffed a sigh and lifted all the papers up. Underneath them, he kept eight envelopes like the one he was currently holding. He grabbed them, and began to reread them in the order he received them. A ritual he could never seem to skip when he got a new one.

_Femme,_

_They told me that they would only send my mail if I behave myself. So don't expect many letters._

_Gary_

Pete had rubbed the edges of the lined card paper so many times that they'd become fuzzy. He traced a finger over the inked words, feeling the deep indentations he'd made with each stroke. Then, he carefully slipped it back into the envelope and retrieved the next one.

_Pete-_

_Miss me yet? I bet you're falling apart without me. Are your parents still assholes?_

_Gary_

The next letter was written in red instead of the previous black. It'd come a month and a half after the first two, which he'd gotten in the same week.

_Hey!_

_Don't you dare ignore me. Just because I'm locked here now, doesn't mean that they can cage me down forever. If you can pull some memories up in your tiny little head, then I think you'll see why you don't want me as an enemy._

_Heed my warning._

_Gary_

Four days later:

_Maybe they don't give me my mail here. I hadn't thought about that. Orderlies do seem like the thieving types._

_Gary_

The envelope that came next was the last addressed to his house. The rest after that had all been coming to school, much to Pete's distress. He didn't even want to think about what Crabblesnitch would do if he found out his head boy was fraternizing with the guy who almost cost him his school.

_Petey,_

_I'm going to have to start sending these to school, aren't I? Does that make you nervous? I hope it does._

_Kick that rat-eyed Jimmy in the balls for me._

_Gary_

_I hate this place. I think it's starting to make me go crazy._

_Gary_

_To the femmiest boy on campus,_

_Does anyone talk about me? I want my name to be a whisper, just itching to come out in the hallway lore newbies pass around in awe. _

_Gary_

_Ps. Did you kick Jimmy yet?_

Pete almost skipped the next one. If he knew he wouldn't be stuck with an internal nagging for going out of order, he would have.

_To Mr. Bigshot Head Boy of the Fabulous Bullworth Academy,_

_You'd better be writing me back. I'm starting to feel a bit paranoid that you're not. I might have to gut you if I find out I've been getting snubbed all along._

_Just kidding. _

_Maybe._

_Gary_

One more until he'd feel right about unveiling the newest addition to his secret collection. He'd only just gotten this one on Wednesday and had only read it a handful of times in bed that night.

_Pete-_

_Can't you pull some strings and come out to see me? I could maybe put on my good boy act and get some visiting hours. Only if you beg me hard enough though._

_Gary_

Pete shuffled the old letters around a few times, his breath all hitched up in his throat. Part of him wanted to rip open the new letter, while another just wanted to throw it away. Finally, he forced himself to carefully slip one finger underneath the flap and pry apart the glue.

At first look, the new index card took him aback. It was covered, both front and back, with Gary's handwriting. The letters weren't meticulous and hard though. They were almost scribbled. Like he was rambling.

_Petey,_

_You need to get me out of here. I don't care how you do it. Pull the alarm or set the place on fire—I don't care! Just do it. I can't take any more of it. Everyone here is out to get me. They keep force feeding me these pills. They're messing with my head! Pretty soon, I'm not going to be me._

_Maybe that fatass Jimmy can help you. I presume you're still up his butt. I don't care if he's involved, just as long as you hurry up._

_Please. I can't take him anymore._

_Gare_

He had to read the words three times before he could even begin to process them. Pete gnawed on his lower lip, not knowing what he could possibly do. Maybe he could go down there and see him next weekend. But breaking him out? That was pure insanity! Gary wasn't right in the head; he needed to be in Happy Volts.

And how would he even go about doing that anyway?

Pete forced himself to tuck away the letters and hide the clipboard under his bed, per his usual bedtime routine. He turned off the ceiling light and changed in the still room. Try as he might, he couldn't fully force his mentally unstable friend out of his head. The only thing that came close to masking the mental images of the scarred boy he once shared a room with was going over his day's events prior to the letter. Reliving his talk with Zoe in particular proved effective.


End file.
